


When morning breaks

by adamngoodbatch (sibbed)



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: And welp, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Other, Shower Sex, Smut, and buck had things to do, i had things to say, this was supposed to be an ode to 24 hour shift
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-21
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24309841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sibbed/pseuds/adamngoodbatch
Summary: Because, for all the love that Buck has for his job, 24-hour shifts still suck. And a sandwich of four 24-hours shifts on a row sucks even more.It just sucks.Buck thinks they suck even if they get a whole week free afterward. Even if he gets to go home and rest right after it. It just sucks. He knows how he gets after a 24-hour shift.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 397





	When morning breaks

**Author's Note:**

> I always wondered how actual LAFD shifts worked and when I checked, I was surprised. They really do have 3 consecutive 24-hour shifts.
> 
> So this fic was born out of my own issues with 24-hour shifts and then it just simply went away from me. There's a lot of reference to things that actually happened to me after 4 consecutive 24-hour shifts.
> 
> As Buck in this fic, I've also been on 5 stack 24-hours shifts sandwiches and believe us when we tell you, it just sucks.  
> Luckily, Buck has Eddie and Chris to fix it.

The shifts normally go like this: Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and four days off. And then Wednesday, Friday, Sunday, and four days off. They get a three-shift sandwich in a row and then a few days off to rest. And Buck, at least a few times a month, takes one or two extra shifts. 

Because he can. He’s young and he has the energy. And he needs the money. So he goes on what he likes to call a quadruple stack shift sandwich. He thinks only once before he did a quintuple stack one. 

Never again.

Because, for all the love that Buck has for his job, 24-hour shifts still suck. And a sandwich of four 24-hours shifts on a row sucks even more.

It just sucks. 

Buck thinks they suck even if they get a whole week free afterward. Even if he gets to go home and rest right after it. It just sucks. He knows how he gets after a 24-hour shift.

Even if they get a solid 4-hour sleep at night. 

Even if they get a full 8-hour sleep at night. Or even with naps in between. 

But the truth is, he doesn’t hate them for the fact that he’s 24 hours at work. He doesn’t hate them for the physical strain he puts on his body. No. He hates them because of how he gets afterward. 

The aftershocks of being 24 hours on edge.

Because, believe it or not, being alert for 24 hours straight is stressful. It can be fun. It can be daunting. But no matter what happens during those 24 hours, Buck knows he’s gonna get punched in the gut with anxiety. 

No matter if all they get are cats-on-trees calls, or if they get 7.1 earthquakes with tilting buildings and fire and death. It’s all the same. Sometimes he thinks he prefers the quakes and the fires because he can put his mind somewhere else. 

Somewhere else means not inwards. Avoid self-reflection. Especially during work hours.

So when the last of the four shifts ends, all Buck wants is his bed. He tries to eat something before collapsing on his bed, because he knows how he gets.

Sometimes he doesn’t even make it to his bed.

The drive to the loft usually goes smoothly with full-on AC on his face, music on the highest volume, and a prayer that he doesn’t get stuck in traffic. 

The only time he remembers almost falling asleep while driving was while being stuck in the middle of a traffic jam at 9 am on a sunny morning. Because the AC works wonders, but when the soft rays of sunshine hit him just right on his face and neck and his arms and hands, and he starts feeling all warm and fuzzy, he feels like he could just let everything go and fall asleep right then and there. But he doesn’t, because full-on cold cold air hits his face and the radio is screaming at him with songs he’s never heard before. So he knows how to get himself home safe.

Once he manages parking his Jeep, no easy task when the fatigue and dysmetria hit him, Buck waits for the elevator resting his whole body against the wall. He lets his eyes finally close for the first time since finishing his shift, only opening them when he hears the beep of the elevator’s door opening. He groans and pushes himself off the wall and enters the elevator and presses his floor button. 

Usually. He usually presses the right button. 

Everything takes longer than usual when he’s like this, so he frantically pushes the button for the doors to close repeatedly, until they finally, finally do.

Opening the door to his apartment feels like a task for the most skilled locksmith. 

Once he tried to open it with his Jeep’s key. 

There was this time when he went to the wrong floor and tried to open his upstairs neighbor’s door for at least 2 minutes until he heard shuffling inside and he ran as fast as he could, taking the stairs to the correct floor. 

Once he tried to pay for the elevator ride. Yes, pay an elevator ride. It made sense at the time. He just needed to swipe his TAP card.

So he knows how he gets.

Buck adores his apartment. It’s luminous and spacious and-

Stairs. 

But before he deals with those, he needs to leave his shoes by the door, put his duffle bag where it belongs, take a water bottle, and get something to eat.

Buck groans at the bottom of the stairs and rubs his face with his two hands, prying his eyes open. He drags himself up, step by step, his body sagged against the wall.

The bed looks so tempting. But first he needs to change. So Buck takes off whatever he’s wearing and doesn’t think about the fact that maybe he’s wearing Eddie’s shirt, and he  reluctantly changes into something else, something cleaner, and comfortable and homey. Maybe another shirt that maybe also belongs to Eddie. Well, belonged.

He walks into the bathroom, thanking his past-self for taking a shower at work, even if that meant ten fewer minutes of sleep. He goes through his well-oiled routine in less than five minutes and he’s finally ready to surrender to his desires and collapse on his bed. He prefers to keep the bed made, so he grabs a comforter from a pile in the closet and wraps it around his shoulders before faceplanting himself on the bed.

Insomnia used to be a problem for Buck, all through high school and college. It used to take him at least an hour or two to fall asleep. And he normally had micro-arousals during the night. Not anymore, he doesn’t. 

Now, or well, since a few years ago when he started with this job that he loves more than almost anything in the world, now it only takes him all of two minutes to fall asleep. And once he’s asleep, he’s dead to the world. He tries to be good with himself and avoid the weekend migraine he knows is lurking in his future, and he sets an alarm for two or three hours later. But there are days he just doesn’t want to wake up. So he just lets himself fall deeper and deeper in a slumber.

His phone vibrates and beeps repeatedly and Buck blinks a few times, before turning off the alarm. It’s Friday. He thinks it’s Friday. Maybe it’s Saturday. But it’s nice outside, the sunshine invades his room. And he’s most definitely sure he had plans for the afternoon or maybe for the night, but he can’t seem to focus. He yawns and the darkness takes over again.

Buck’s body jerks and he feels his brain’s awake but he can’t open his eyes. Or move his body. He groans and tries stretching his arms. His phone is on his bedside table. He can’t remember if he plugged it in. He grabs the phone and tries to focus on the clock. 

7 pm. He slept for almost 8 hours. Confusion rushes over him. He set an alarm, he remembers setting it. He thinks hard if he’s turned it off, maybe. He doesn’t remember and he definitely doesn’t care. He’s awake now. Sort of.

He scoots himself up on the bed and forces himself to stay in a semi-seated position. The yawn that takes his body over surprises him and he chuckles. Stretching his whole body feels delightful. The yawn that escapes him is louder than he predicted.

Buck slowly blinks a few times, readjusting his vision, and hears some noise coming from downstairs.

“We’re here.” Eddie’s voice soothes him.

“Hmm.” 

“Have you been-- No, you know what? When you’re ready come downstairs. We brought dinner with us from abuela’s.” As Buck knows how he gets, Eddie is painfully aware of the difficulties of dealing with a post-quadruple stack shift sandwich Buck too, so he doesn’t push and Buck is so thankful that he gets to have this. 

He gets to lose himself a little, to suddenly be found by Eddie and Chris.

Buck can hear the clanking of Chris’ crutches and forces himself awake. “‘Mkay.” He can’t manage words still and he’s almost sure they can’t hear him murmuring. Voice low and mellow and slurred. Buck tries to turn the volume of his words up a bit.

“Be right down.” His feet touch the floor, eyes still closed. It’s cold and a chill makes him shake all over. He tries to get up but his legs won’t have it. He tries again and manages to stand up, opens his eyes, and takes two long strides towards the bathroom. When he reaches the door he stretches grabbing the edge of the frame above his head and yawns.

“Buck?” 

Now that Chris is talking to him, Buck manages a less weak form of voice, “be right down.”

Ready to face the Diaz boys in the kitchen, Buck drags himself towards the stairs. He’s holding onto the rail with his hand, but his whole body collapses against the wall and he lets his head bump softly against it, eyes closed.

“You ok?” Eddie asks, with a huge smile on his face.

“Hmmm.”

“If you’re going to go down the stairs, I’d rather you opened your eyes, you know?”

Buck opens his eyes wide, “They’re open, Eddie,” and wider, “see?” Chris stares at him and chuckles. But Buck can’t take a step without dizziness overpowering him, “Just be patient with me,” he sighs and looks at Chris. 

“And you,” Buck lets go of the rail and points at the boy, “don’t laugh.”

The statement manages to throw Chris into a fit of giggles. “I’m sorry, Bucky,” he says in between laughs.

Tumbling down the first two steps down, Buck decides that he’ll be safer taking a seat on the stairs.

“Stop goofing around, come on,” Eddie frowns, but Buck can see a twinkle in his eyes.

Buck shuffles where he’s sitting, “I don’t think I can walk down the stairs, so maybe-” He throws Chris a mischievous smile and the boy laughs.

“What are you doing, Bucky?” Chris squints at him.

Buck plants his two feet on a lower step and his two hands beside his rear, pushing himself up and wiggling his butt in the air, before hauling himself down two steps and planting his butt down. The fit of hysterics Buck and Chris go into, makes Eddie turn around from where he’s plating dinner.

“You two are ridiculous. Can you please hurry, I’m hungry,” Eddie says while he grabs two plates and takes them to the table, then turns around and grabs Chris from under his arms and hauls him up, “Come on, leave Buck to his antics.”

When Buck reaches the bottom of the stairs, he’s still sitting down and his legs don’t seem to be working properly. Eddie helps set Chris on his seat and he hears a whimper coming from Buck, “Need some help there, bud?”

“Maybe,” Buck whispers.

A hand, so warm it makes Buck shiver, runs through his hair. “Okay, come on, pull yourself up.” Eddie offers his forearm, fixing it so that Buck can grab it and as he does, he stands up flimsily and puts his hands on Eddies’ shoulders. He can feel his knees buckle, but before he falls, Eddie is grabbing him with two strong hands from his waist. “Come on, sleepyhead.” Eddie ushers Buck to his seat and turns to go get something from the kitchen, but a hand grabs him from his wrist.

“Kiss for Buck?”

Eddie chuckles and plants a kiss on Buck’s forehead. “God, you’re lucky I love you.”

“Mhmm. Love you too.”

* * *

When it’s time to go to sleep, they arrange the pull out bed and manage to put Chris down after watching a movie and a half. If Buck’s being honest, he didn’t even get to watch five minutes of the first one before falling asleep with his head pressed against Eddie’s shoulder.

When they finally get to bed, Buck collapses into it, again. The last 8 hours of sleep weren’t enough for his tired body. Eddie goes to the bathroom and when he comes back out he finds Buck laying down belly up, legs stretched, arms covering his face, snoring.

Eddie gently shoves him on the shoulder, “Buck, come on, get under the covers at least.” 

“Mhmm, but it’s because of the standardization.”

Eddie cackles, trying to stifle the laughter because Chris is sleeping downstairs, “What?”

Buck opens his eyes and sighs, “Standardization, Eds,” he sits up and joins Eddie under the covers.

“What, Buck?”

Buck turns to look at Eddie and frowns, “There are accelerants at the base of the structure.”

Eddie cackles, “Yeah, bud, I bet there are.”

“Don’t laugh, it’s true,” Buck pouts.

“I know it is.”

“Mhmm,” Buck throws his arm around Eddie’s waist and squeezes.

“What were you dreaming about?”

Buck yawns, “I wasn’t dreaming.”

“Of course you weren’t,” Eddie reaches to turn off the light.

Surrounded by complete darkness, Buck yawns, “Stop laughing at my expense.”

“Go to sleep, Buck.”

“I love you,” Buck plants a kiss on Eddie’s shoulder.

“Yeah, I love you too.”

* * *

When morning hits, waking up feels like a chore. 

And Buck thinks that, usually, it feels like a chore because, usually, he’s alone. 

No, wait. He used to be alone. 

For so long, his bed was his and his alone. Sprawled flat against the bed, face planted on his pillow. And sleeping in a diagonal. 

But now. Now he’s still in a diagonal, but his legs are tangled with two other legs. And Buck feels he’s ascending, reaching nirvana.

He untangles his legs from Eddies’ and turns himself to face him. Eddie’s snoring, curled up on his side, giving his back to Buck. He reaches over Eddie’s waist, spooning him and pulling their bodies closer together, careful not to wake the other man. There’s a hollow between Eddies’ shoulderblades where Buck knows he can fit his entire face and breathe in his scent. He nuzzles his nose against the nape of his boyfriend’s neck and plants a kiss there, scurrying down and setting his face in that particular space of bliss and wonder.

Buck breathes in and as he puffs the air out he feels Eddie stir.

“You’re tickling me.”

“Oops. Sorry,” Buck starts to turn his face away from his spot, but he feels Eddie tug at his wrist.

“No, ‘Snice. What time is it?”

“No idea. Why?”

“Mhmm. I was thinking.”

Buck snorts. “No, you were asleep, so maybe-- maybe you were dreaming.” 

“Fine, I was dreaming.” Eddie sighs and turns himself, so he’s facing up.

“What about?”

Eddie turns his face and looks at Buck. “You.”

“Oh.”

“And me.” Eddie turns his whole body now, facing Buck, and with his left hand he rubs his thumb over his lips.

“Nice.” Buck kisses Eddie’s thumb, plants his right hand over Eddie’s naked chest, and moves it down until his fingers meet the edge of his shorts.

“And the shower.”

“Very nice.” 

“And some hand stuff.” 

Buck palms Eddie’s cock through his shorts now, rubbing up and down a few times, “Wanna reenact it?” 

“Always.”

Buck gets out of bed in an instant and in two strides crosses the room over to the bathroom, turning on the shower. He takes off his clothes and stands under the running water. 

“Come on, Eds.”

“Coming.”

Buck peaks his head out and beams at him, “You will be.”

“Shut up,” Eddie enters the shower and kisses Buck. They stumble, their bodies clumsy from sleep and slippery from the water, and grab at each other’s waist to keep each other from falling. Buck breathes a laugh against Eddie’s mouth and kisses him back.

“This isn’t how the dream went,” Eddie whispers.

“Welcome to reality, dude,” Buck grabs him by the nape of the neck and deepens the kiss. With his other hand he takes their cocks and presses them together, giving a gentle squeeze. Eddie moans into the kiss and Buck would give anything to keep this sound forever stored in his brain.

Buck strokes their cocks together, feeling the warm water sliding down his back. He turns them around, placing Eddie under the warm flow of water and he notices Eddie tense up, “Are you gonna come for me, Eds?”

“Mhmm, so close,” Eddie thrusts into Buck’s hold and comes all over his hand, his knees buckle, but Buck’s holding him upright. He signals Buck to let him go and he falls to his knees and takes Buck’s cock with his hand and licks the shaft until he reaches the tip and places it into his mouth.

Buck groans and puts his hands over Eddie’s head, stroking his wet hair.

Eddie plays with his tongue around Buck’s cock, he licks and sucks until Buck is trembling. He hollows his cheeks and lets Buck’s cock fall out of his mouth with a popping sound. He licks the tip again and puts the head of Buck’s cock into his mouth and Buck’s coming and Eddie swallows every drop. He stands up and gives Buck a little peck on the cheek.

Buck smiles and hugs him, “What a dream it must have been.”

“I prefer this reality.”

As they exit the bathroom, both blissfully content and satiated, they make easy conversation, talking nonsense as they do when they have lazy mornings, and a few days off ahead of them.

“I can hear the cartoons. Chris’s up already,” Buck approaches the stairs and looks down. “Morning, bud, you slept ok?”

“Yes, Bucky. D-did I wake you with the TV?”

“No, kid, you didn’t, don’t worry about it.”

“Ok, cool.” Chris turns his attention back to the cartoons playing on the tv, ending the conversation there. 

Buck chuckles and walks back to where Eddie’s standing, “God, I love him, Eds. He is the best kid.”

“Yeah, that he is.”

* * *

The diner is packed full of people. It’s a beautiful morning and everyone seems to have had the same idea. Even though going out for breakfast was the plan Eddie and Chris concocted the day before, on their way to Buck’s place.

While waiting for a table, Buck and Chris start playing some ridiculous game about types of food, listing them in order of favorites. They end up having an argument about potatoes, rice, and pasta. Eddie’s too distracted to join, so he checks his social media on his phone instead.

“Pancakes!” Chris cheers when they are finally seated almost half an hour after arriving.

“Yeah, buddy, pancakes indeed,” Buck grabs a menu for him and another for Chris, sitting beside the boy, in front of Eddie.

“Chocolate chip?” Chris smiles at Buck.

“If that’s what you want, then sure.”

“Daddy?”

“Yes, mijo, chocolate chip pancakes are ok,” Eddie answers looking up from his menu.

“Cool. No, wait. I want the Nutella ones too.”

Buck grins at the boy, “Oh, man, that’s even better, superman. So I can order them with Nutella, you order with chocolate chips, and, Eddie, you’ll have the blueberry ones. And then we can try them all.”

Chris slams his menu closed and leaves it to the side, “I like how you think, Bucky.”

“Yeah, Bucky,” Eddie teases, reaching over the table and tickling Buck’s side, “We like how you think.”

Buck nods and makes a mock curtsy. He places their order with the waiter and looks at Eddie and Chris, who are exchanging a look that Buck can’t interpret. It’s like they are having a conversation with their eyes. And Buck notices how Chris went too serious too fast.

“Bucky,” the boy says, a frown on his face.

“What is it, Chris?”

“We wanted to come here because-” Chris looks at his father and then shifts on his chair, “well, we want to ask you something, something important.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” the boy says.

Buck goes still, his heart starts beating fast, but he has no idea where this conversation is going so he forces a smile on his face, “Ok, I’m listening.”

“Daddy, you tell him.”

“You sure, mijo? You don’t want to do it yourself?”

“No, you do it.”

Buck gives Eddie a questioning look, “Ok, you two are scaring me now.” 

Eddie smiles softly at him, “Nah, it’s just Chris being more ominous than needed, and let me add a bit shier than I’d thought he’d be, considering you are his Bucky.”

“Daaaad.”

“What? We’ve been through this, Chris. We even rehearsed it.”

“Fine,” he mumbles, “We want you to come live with us.” 

Chris goes through the sentence so fast, Buck can barely pick up what he’s saying, so he just stares at him. When there’s no clarification from the boy and Buck catches himself spiraling, he turns to stare at Eddie who just smiles at him.

“Chris?” Eddie encourages his son.

“Fine,” he says, clearer this time, “Bucky,” Chris grabs Buck's hand and squeezes, “we want you to c-come live with us.”

There’s no question. That’s a statement. They want him with them. Buck’s reeling from the feeling of being wanted and appreciated and loved. He feels so loved. In his life he never thought he’d get to have this.

And yet. Here they are. He squeezes Chris’s hand back and blinks a few tears away. Eddie takes his other hand and kisses his knuckles.

“I love you, Buck, we love you. You’re everything to us and we’d love it if you’d like to come live with us,” Eddie grins and presses another kiss to Bucks’ knuckles.

“Chris,” Buck’s choked up, “Eds,” he blinks repeatedly alternating a look between Chris and Eddie. He tugs at Eddie’s hand and launches himself over Chris.

Words won’t come out, but he thinks that maybe if he hugs them hard enough, he will be able to convey what he’s feeling.

Buck’s crying now. Tears flowing freely, getting all over Chris' shirt. The boy looks up and peaks around Buck’s embrace to look at his father, who is hugging them both.

“Daddy, I think we broke him.”

Buck sniffles and a chuckle escapes his mouth, “No, kid, I think you helped fix me.”

**Author's Note:**

> This fic got very personal for me, and I hope I did myself justice.  
> Working title: Sleep Drunk Buck


End file.
